


i lost teeth and i gained wisdom

by mockturtletale



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: (yes as a theme), 5 Times, Angst, Clothes Sharing, Friends With Benefits, Jealousy, M/M, Miscommunication, TJ Oshie - Freeform, rookie wrangling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-23
Updated: 2013-05-23
Packaged: 2018-02-06 07:54:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1850296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mockturtletale/pseuds/mockturtletale
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You’re troubled, Peeks. Your rookie here felt a disturbance in the douchebag force and went looking for an adult. I don’t know whether that was because of or in spite of your training and example, but the kid did good.” Andrew grins proudly at Sharpy, because he’s a fucking traitor, but he hands Patrick two six packs of beer and a bottle of tequila, so Patrick can’t look a gift horse in the mouth in anger or whatever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i lost teeth and i gained wisdom

**Author's Note:**

  * For [liketheroad](https://archiveofourown.org/users/liketheroad/gifts).



> This is for liketheroad for a great many reasons. Mostly because she has helped me in my life in a hundred thousand different ways, but specifically because lately even though we're both running the academic gauntlet she found it in her heart and schedule to be a huge help to me with my postgrad apps, and I honestly wouldn't have had the self-belief necessary to even apply at all if it weren't for her, so I wanted to do something nice and what's nicer than taking an idea she liked the sound of and turning it into a 20k reality? IDK, but if you do you should let me know so I can do that, too. I haven't written and posted k/t in forever, but it was easy to do so with this one because it's for liketheroad and that's a cause I can always get behind. This is like fifteen different stories in one (jealousy fic, a TJ Broshie celebrotion, 5 times fic inside a real narrative fic, clothes-sharing fic, rookie goat-herder fic, miscommunication fic, pining fic, IT'S BASICALLY A FIC FRUIT SALAD) so I hope it doesn't suck and I trust that you'll enjoy my blatant disregard for self-discipline and order, here. In short: dear liketheroad thanks for being my friend and being in the world, xoxo.

Just because something is unequivocally true doesn’t mean you’ve got to get all hung up on it. In fact, Patrick likes to take the absolute trueness of some things as permission to not really give them all that much thought at all. If Patrick can’t alter the outcome, Patrick doesn’t care. 

The reality that Patrick spends all his time with Jonny isn’t something that’s set to change anytime soon. It’s simply the way things are - it’s nothing Patrick would change, but it’s also nothing Patrick _could_ change, so there’s really no point in wasting time thinking about the relative merits or difficulty level of something that’s true and unwavering. 

Nothing about what Patrick says or does or thinks or feels is going to have any bearing whatsoever on their routine and the almost equal parts they play in one another’s lives, so knowing that and not caring to try and change it is the easy part. 

It’s being Jonny’s best friend, having him not five feet from Patrick for the largest parts of their day, caring about his feelings, being invested in his happiness, trusting him completely, and wanting to get Jonny’s hands on him so badly that it sometimes makes him lightheaded that are the hard parts. 

Their routine is designed specifically to make their lives as easy as they possibly can be, and on most levels it works out exactly as intended - to be manageable. Patrick could handle the close proximity with almost anyone else, and he has no problem whatsoever with the thirty or so other guys with whom he shares this particular pocket of space. Jonny is another story. ‘Manageable’ is one word you could never use to describe him. 

Jonny is a handful, and Patrick has enough to deal with as is, so he accepts the truthiest chunks of his life as he knows it, and works from that foundation on everything else. 

( If you insist on getting technical about it, it wouldn’t be false to say that Patrick is in love with Jonny. )

 

____

 

Jonny doesn’t love Patrick, and that makes the whole thing easier. 

Patrick has tried a bunch of times to tell Jonny how he feels, and although none of those attempts have been the most romantic or comprehensive efforts, there’s no mistaking the sentiment; no way Jonny can ignore the combined effort of Patrick’s honesty and sincerity. 

To his credit, Jonny doesn’t pretend not to know what Patrick is trying to say. 

Jonny hears him out every time, and each and every time he says ‘no’. 

 

____

 

i

 

The first time Patrick tells Jonny he’s in love with him and wants to be with him forever, it comes out as:

“Hey, I could blow you if you wanted.” 

In Patrick’s defense, they were at a bar at the time, already well on their way to wasted, and that’s not really the time or the place for epic confessions. They were rookies, still, and Patrick had been stewing in the horrified suspicion that right around the time he’d stopped thinking about getting his tongue in Jonny’s ass and had started to think very seriously about ways to get Jonny to hold his hand instead … well, somewhere in around there there must have come a point when he’d gone and fallen in love with the guy. Probably not the most ill-advised thing Patrick had ever done, but definitely the most confusing and potentially upsetting, because this wasn’t something he could just do because he wanted to do it; he’d have to convince Jonny that this was something they should do together, and having known the dude exactly four months he wasn’t really having much luck in that department yet. It was unthinkable, how spectacularly Patrick was striking out on convincing this dude that they should be best friends forever. He’d made some progress, but Patrick had worked up more trust with one night stands than he had with Jonny so far. It wasn’t like he was about to give up, then or ever, but he was finding himself a little out of his depth with this turning out to be a situation he couldn’t blow through with confidence, skill, charm or some combination thereof. 

As if all of that wasn’t difficult enough, here they’d been, out on the town celebrating a big win on a night that Patrick when scored twice and set Jonny up for as many goals himself, and Jonny was trying to hook up with someone else. 

Or rather Seabs and Duncs were trying to get Jonny to hook up with someone else, because they were clearly terrible friends and terrible teammates. Patrick has never trusted defensemen, and that right there had maybe been the start of that. 

Jonny hadn’t seemed exactly _into_ it, but Patrick hadn’t really seen Jonny be ‘into’ anything except winning and being strangely, furiously polite at that point, so he couldn’t have been sure that Jonny wasn’t as into this idea as he was into the idea of exercising, which meant looking the exact opposite of ‘into’ it and scowling and frowning a whole lot right up until he got down to it and enacted his one man demonstration of mammoth effort for anyone around to witness it. 

Patrick hadn’t wanted Jonny’s mammoth sex effort to be wasted on anyone who wasn’t him, and that was all it was. He hadn’t been lobbying for them to get one another’s initials monogrammed on their towels just yet, but he had figured this could be step one of what it looked like would be an excruciatingly long and drawn out plan. Everything was the long play with Jonny. And Patrick had just been looking for his in. 

So he’d casually slung his arm around Jonny’s shoulders while they both watched Duncs and Seabs heatedly debate the merits and pitfalls of hooking up in their own city, and he’d leaned in and quietly offered oral sex to his teammate and roommate, his friend and his soon to be best friend, maybe boyfriend. 

Patrick could totally be subtle, now. Jonny was teaching him how to do things carefully and considerately, even if he didn’t know he was. 

But Jonny obviously hadn’t been in the kind or instructorly mood that night, because he’d rolled his eyes and snorted in an completely unattractive way that Patrick still managed to find attractive, and he’d said, 

“Yeah, right. Sure thing, Kaner,” in a way that very clearly said the very opposite of all that, and then Seabs had been hitting Jonny on the arm, getting his attention to introduce him to some girl they’d just met and seemingly hand-picked for him, and that was Patrick’s cue to sulk. 

Patrick didn’t see him again that night, except for when he’d looked up from his drink about an hour later just in time to see Jonny appear to grab his coat and head out with the girl from earlier. 

“Get a grip, Kaner,” Jonny had said, all mock-rousingly, and he’d smiled and everything, and it had sucked. 

Get a grip. 

That was exactly what he’d been trying to do. 

 

____

 

ii

 

Patrick’s mom always said you can’t keep a good man down, though, so he’d bounced back from his first defeat pretty quickly, and if anything the knockback just made him even more determined. 

He just hadn’t been clear enough the first time, that was the problem, obviously. 

So the next time he’d endeavoured to tell Jonny how he was feeling, he did just that, and in as much honest detail as he could muster. 

Round Two had happened after practice one day, when he and Jonny were the last ones off the ice and as such, the last ones left in the locker room. Maybe on other teams other guys would hang back so the rookies weren’t left alone in some kind of display of teamwork or whatever, but the Blackhawks seemed to decide about five minutes after they’d met Patrick and Jonny that it was really better for everyone if they were left to their own devices. Maybe they thought that because there were two of them, they could take of one another and that didn’t have to be the team’s job. But more likely it was because Jonny was the only one Patrick would listen to, and Patrick was the only who still bothered to try and tell Jonny anything. Probably everyone else thought they’d kill each other, and then they’d be no-one’s problem. 

Whatever the reason for it, it was just fine by Patrick. 

It even seemed to be not quite the worst thing that had ever happened to Jonny, if the way he only mostly ignored Patrick when they were left alone together was any indication of his feelings. That, Patrick could work with. 

He’d waited until Jonny had gotten out of the shower, and then he’d waited until Jonny had pulled most of his clothes on, because Patrick needed to have his head in the game here, and also he wanted Jonny to know that he was serious. Nude confessions probably wouldn’t get that across. 

So they’d both been fully dressed and just about to head out, and Jonny had even held the door to the player’s lounge open for Patrick, and if that wasn’t a sign that this was the moment to go for it, Patrick didn’t know what was. 

“Look, man,” he’d said, falling into step beside Jonny and keeping pace even though Jonny’s legs were a little longer and he liked to stride when Patrick was around, “about what I said in the bar a couple weeks ago. I-” 

Jonny had cut him off. 

“You were drunk, Patrick, it’s fine. I wasn’t really listening, anyway, so don’t sweat it.” 

And that had pissed Patrick off. He’d stopped, and shoved at Jonny’s shoulder until he had him backed up against the wall of the corridor. 

“Oh, okay. You weren’t listening. You didn’t hear me when I offered to suck your dick. That’s totally fine, Jonny. But just to recap: your dick, my mouth. I’d have gotten on my knees for you, if you’d asked. Right there at the bar, or back at my place. You could have taken me home, if you’d wanted. But you didn’t want to, right? That’s fine, man, but don’t think I was apologizing for the offer, because I wasn’t.” 

Jonny had looked at him like he’d just told Jonny he knew how they could win the Stanley Cup - like Patrick was completely and utterly crazy, but just a little bit like maybe he wanted to hear him out anyway. 

“I’m still not, Jonny. If you wanted … if you want … it wouldn’t be weird. It wouldn’t have to be. We’re friends, right? Road roomies and everything. I mean, it makes sense.” 

And at that, Jonny had shut down. 

He’d looked away from Patrick, and shaken his head as if to clear it, and when he’d looked at Patrick again, it was with the same look in his eyes that Patrick saw when Jonny talked to their coaches. The look that said Jonny was completely confident that whatever he was about to say was what exactly whoever he was talking to wanted to hear. 

“It wouldn’t be a big deal,” he’d agreed, shrugging, “but it wouldn’t be a good idea, either, Pat.” 

And with that, Jonny had walked away. 

 

____

 

iii

 

Attempt #3 had been both Patrick’s favourite and least favourite shot. 

It was his favourite because for a second there, he’d actually thought Jonny was into him too. 

They’d been hanging out at Patrick’s place one afternoon, fucking around on the Xbox because Jonny had showed up just when Patrick had been waking up from his afternoon nap because he’s a weirdo who knows everything about everyone else’s routines even though he purposefully avoids getting into one himself because he says luck is for people who haven’t worked hard enough. 

It was hardly a hardship for Patrick to spend a couple hours alternating between schooling Jonny and letting him win so Patrick can ogle his ass - the main attraction of his ridiculous victory dance - but the problem was that almost every time Patrick tried to seek surreptitious glances at Jonny, Jonny was already doing the same. 

After several hours of this, and absolutely no shift in their usual line of conversation - hockey, the relative dumbness of their siblings, and hockey - Patrick had had enough. 

“You wanna sit in my lap, man?” he’d asked, spreading his needs as wide as his sweats would allow and gesturing with his controller for good measure, even though that really wasn’t necessary because Jonny’s eyes had him detailed head to toe several times over that afternoon. 

Jonny had blushed, honest to god blushed, and the pink of his cheeks had been so fucking pretty that Patrick couldn’t resist. 

“You’re more than welcome, buddy. Any time you’d like. Patrick Kane is here to please, everyone knows that.” 

He’d meant it, too. He’d meant it hard. But Jonny had blinked huge, horrified eyes at him, mumbled nothing close to a full sentence, and bailed like his very life depended on him getting out of Patrick’s place quicker than the speed of light. Or like a dude completely repulsed by the thought of sleeping with Patrick. Which he was. And didn’t that suck. 

Patrick had sighed and killed the game, glancing over at the keys still swinging from the lock on his front door. 

“Good talk, Jonny,” he’d said sadly to his now conspicuously quiet apartment, and that was why #3 had been the best and the worst. 

Hope is just a different name for hurting yourself, Patrick had learned. 

 

____

 

iv

 

The fourth time had really been more like the fourth through four hundredth time. The month immediately following the moment when they’d won the Stanley Cup had been a month composed entirely of moments when Patrick made himself totally available to Jonathan Toews, and made no bones about the fact that he’d do anything for the guy, do anything at all to get to stay next to him. 

Patrick’s goal, the overtime game-winning one, hadn’t been for Jonny, not in the strictest sense of that idea. He hadn’t gone out there determined to win for anyone besides himself and the entire team that was his own. 

But then the puck had found the net, and Patrick had found himself flinging off his gloves and caught in the kind of scream that was so huge and so primal that it ripped through his throat with a ferocity that almost frightened him, and all of a sudden he was thinking about what Jonny’s face would look like when he realized they’d won. 

It was about as terrible as Patrick had imagined, because he’s always been gifted at that too - nothing ever really surprises him, or manages to be better or worse than whatever shape it instantly takes in his mind. Jonny’s wolverine sideburns were sweaty and gross and his beard was fucking disgusting and Patrick wanted to puke when he thought about kissing him and having all that wiry hair near his teeth and tongue, but god forgive him he’d still thought about it. He’d still wanted it. 

He cut himself some slack that month, and let it show as clear as day to anyone who cared to look or wonder that he was so in love with his captain it had made him into some kind of pervert. It was day after day of smiles so wide they hurt, and hugs so hard that they were almost, almost enough. Jonny returned it all, and let Patrick take his fill, but he never initiated anything besides the first hug when they won. 

Patrick will always associate that moment with the afterthought of Jonny reaching for him, and he doesn’t know yet whether that will turn out to have been a good or a bad thing. 

 

____

 

v

 

The fifth time was the definite worst, no question about it. 

Patrick had woken up in Jonny’s bed _with_ Jonny and more or less cordially asked the dude to join him in civil union, so the worstness of the entire thing was definitely unparalleled by anything else Patrick had ever done, thought of doing, or had nightmares about doing. 

Tragically for everyone who was Patrick, he hadn’t ended up in Jonny’s bed by way of fun or illicit deeds. He’d passed out on top of the covers watching a movie, because they’d both been too riled up after a game that Patrick can’t even remember the circumstances of, because what had mattered about that night had been the morning that followed it. 

Waking up with Jonny had been really fucking nice, was all. He must have tucked Patrick in under the covers at some point, and what possessed him to join Patrick in his bed Patrick will probably never know, but he hadn’t questioned it at the time and he doesn’t have to question it now. 

It wasn’t like they’d woken up spooning, or with Jonny breathing into Patrick’s hair or anything sickly rom-com like that, but Patrick had been able to roll over and see Jonny’s dumb, slack, sleep-happy face, and call him sick, but that had really done it for him. In the heart, rather than in the pants, which was obviously so much more embarrassing. Patrick didn’t mind being embarrassing about Jonny, though, because Jonny’s existence was pretty embarrassing in general, and Patrick never called him on it. It was kind of their thing. They were horrendous human beings who were somehow pretty great at hockey, and who made one another happy just by being their terrible, awesome selves. There had never been any kind of pretense or politeness between them, and the only reason Patrick tried at all to hide the depths of his painfully huge feelings about Jonny was because every time he brought it up, Jonny shut him down. The problem was that he did so neither gently nor brutally. He ignored whatever Patrick said, but he didn’t tell him not to bring it up again. Hell, at times Patrick thought Jonny was going to be the one to bring it up himself. But although he didn’t, his response to Patrick’s confessions always made him feel like he’d almost gotten it right, like there was something Jonny was waiting to hear, something Patrick _could_ say that Jonny would listen to and hear. 

Jonny acted like he was waiting, like Patrick owed him something, sometimes, and Patrick was sick of saying it, sick of meaning it so much he’d try to say it as many different ways as he could think of, show as best he knew how that he was more serious about this than he’d ever felt like being about anything else. 

So that morning when Jonny had slowly blinked his dark, full eyes open right next to Patrick and smiled at him like he was genuinely pleased to see him, Patrick had gone all out. 

“We could have this all the time. Every single morning. If you wanted.” 

“Yeah?” Jonny had asked, something almost yearning in his voice and Patrick’s heart had soared. 

He’d wiggled his way closer to Jonny, not touching him, not yet, but making it clear that that was his intention then and always had been. He’d tucked the covers up over Jonny’s bare shoulder to keep him warm, and he’d settled in to have a long, long overdue conversation about their future. 

“Think about it. We fall asleep together every night, and wake up like this every morning. We go to practice together, take naps together, win games together, rinse and repeat. We do almost all of that anyway, so this would just be more, right? Like - we’d be together. It’d be everything we already have, but better. Nothing would have to change, we wouldn’t have to mess up what we’ve already got going, we’d just add to it, we’d -” 

“We wouldn’t have to tell anyone, right?” Jonny had asked it strangely, body gone stiff next to Patrick’s and his jaw set hard, locked sharp with tension. 

Patrick had done a pretty admirable job of keeping it together and not falling apart or losing it at final confirmation that Jonny might sleep with him, might acknowledge as much to Patrick, but was embarrassed that he wanted to, and ultimately ashamed to admit it. Ashamed of Patrick. 

“We - no. No, we - we wouldn’t have to, if - I mean, it’d probably be for the best, right? The questions, and what if it got out and if everyone knew …” 

Jonny had rolled away from Patrick when he’d said it, and he’d folded his arms up behind his head, staring at his ceiling instead of looking at Patrick, and making no effort to answer him. To put him out of his misery. Patrick bringing up the idea of their teammates - their friends and their family - knowing about them being together had obviously been his final mistake, and the one that had pushed Jonny to confront the idea head on, to then decide that wanting Patrick a little bit wasn’t enough to risk it all for. Wouldn’t be enough of a gain to justify taking that chance. 

“Patrick -” 

“Nah, Jonny, it’s okay.” Patrick had forced himself to say - to _lie_ , but Jonny pressed on. 

“We’re friends, right? Best friends. We’re good. We’re good just like this. This isn’t complicated, and it’s not anything either of us feel like we have to hide, and it’s - it’s easier. That’s what you want, right?” 

If being best friends with Jonny was what was on offer here - was all that was on offer, here - then yeah, that was absolutely what Patrick wanted. 

“Yeah. We’re good,” Patrick had said, and then he’d rolled away from Jonny and gotten the hell on with his life. 

Jonny wasn’t interested. Not the way Patrick was. 

Jonny wasn’t interested in the kind of scope and timeframe that Patrick had in mind, and Patrick maybe had to be told that five times, but he certainly had neither the need nor the stomach to hear it a sixth. 

 

____

 

Getting the hell on with his life had mostly consisted of playing a lot of hockey, bothering Sharpy even more than usual, and generally drinking less than he ever had before; although on occasion he would drink more than he’d care to drink again, just to mix it up. 

Patrick had been lonely a lot, and he’d felt a little bereft, but he couldn’t exactly blame Jonny for not wanting him enough to risk his entire career, or as he liked to think of it on his worst days - not wanting him enough to even try. It was slightly gratifying to know that Jonny wanted him at all, Patrick couldn’t lie about that, but the thought didn’t comfort him, and it certainly didn’t keep him warm at night. It hadn’t made it any easier to see Jonny every single day and walk away from him every afternoon, every evening, knowing that that was exactly the way Jonny wanted it when it still made Patrick miserable. 

Patrick had hockey, he had his friends and his family and his teammates which were both. He still had Jonny, who would always be some disgraceful combination of all the best things in Patrick’s life, all the best aspects of Patrick’s best relationships with his favourite people rolled into one cruelly attractive, utterly hopeless package that Patrick would now never get his hands on. 

It wasn’t like Patrick moped, or bed hopped a leap frog ode to his heartbreak across the city of Chicago. 

Mostly nothing changed at all. 

And Patrick learned to stop hoping that it would. 

 

____

 

It’s not the first time Patrick has had to keep his mouth shut and the secret of his greed to himself. Ever since Patrick made the mistake of thinking that he might some day, some way, some how get to have Jonny, he has wanted and wanted and wanted. But it’s too much to feel all the time and far too much to think about whenever Jonny is there. When Jonny is next to him, Patrick keeps it under wraps. He’s become an old hand at twisting techniques they’re taught to help them visualize victory, and it’s all too easy to reach in and grab a hold of the liquid gold center of him, the pool of keen, gleaming love that Jonny sends spilling right through Patrick. Patrick thinks about letting it fall, slowly draining from his skin and bones and the places where they meet in muscle to fill his feet with hot, bright hunger. He skates circles around defensemen in their pairs and opponents in their quartets with prestige singing from his arches and the nights when commentators, fans, and teammates alike talk about his hands with stars in their eyes always come on the heel of afternoons and evenings when he has burned with the need to touch Jonny, when Patrick’s will to love him won’t leave him in peace and clings to the tips of his fingers in riotous adulation instead, leaving the mess that Jonny makes of Patrick shouted out in the fights Patrick picks for himself, against himself, and always, always wins. 

Patrick doesn’t win for Jonny, but the way he wins is very often because of him. The things that Patrick struggles so hard to say with words are easy to show and easier still to celebrate. When Patrick scores a particularly beautiful goal, or stickhandles for so long he loses sight of the puck and has to trust the pull of it between the ice and his stick, when he rifles a shot on net like he fully intends it to go right through the goaltender, or drops a sleek, precise pass back for Jonny to pick up, Patrick is saying ‘this is how I love you, this is how much I love you.’ 

He so often and so loudly says it like that that it’s not difficult for Patrick to keep it out of his mouth. 

 

____

 

There are, of course, times when the circumstances make it difficult as all fuck to not blurt it right out. But even then, Patrick tries. 

 

____

 

i

 

The first time Patrick realized he was in honest to god, heart in his throat, stomach puked up onto the floor in front of him, real and messy, cored and galvanizing _love_ with Jonny, Patrick had been so surprised by the moment that he’d almost shared it out loud. 

It hadn’t felt like finding something foreign and unbelonging, but something old and worn supple and strong with use, only now as effective and undeniable as it felt in Patrick because it had been a part of him for as long as he’d known Jonny, standing out at last not because it was new, but because it was ready. 

They’d not only been rookies at the time, but brand new rookies at that. 

Patrick had known Jonny for a little over seven weeks, just shy of two full months. 

There had been nothing shy at all about the way they treated one another, and Jonny had Patrick in a headlock when Patrick realized he was in love with him. 

He’d thought about putting his mouth in the place where Jonny’s shirt rode up to show a thick, muscled slice of skin above the cut of his hip, and then he’d held his breath as he’d twisted to look up into Jonny’s face. When their eyes had met Jonny’s had been dark and crinkled around laughter, his face had been flushed and open in a way that left him looking so much younger than his demeanour could allow most people to believe he really was - almost as young as Patrick with that tired grin pinking his cheeks and smoothing the concentration from his forehead. 

Patrick hadn’t said anything that day. But he hadn’t stopped feeling it since that first time it kicked him under the ribs and left him seeing something far more vast and sublime than stars. 

 

____

 

ii

 

When Jonny had sought him after their overtime win, the one that earned them the Stanley Cup, Patrick hadn’t said it then, either. 

He’d known Jonny by the hands on his hips, even through all his layers of padding, and every drop of triumph in his body had been drawn sharp and focused to Jonny’s hands on him, Jonny touching him in pride. 

Patrick had gasped, and then he’d laughed, and it had been the easiest, most difficult thing in the world to choke on his own delight rather than spit out an overture for the only thing he still wanted in that moment. 

 

____

 

iii

 

Jonny is completely pathetic when he’s sick, and it’s one of Patrick’s favourite things about him. 

Patrick, in contrast, is far more stoic and composed about the entire thing. Not because he’s at all stoic or composed by nature, but because his sisters had trained him well, and with three of them to big brother and nurse whenever they were sick, his being under the weather hadn’t really seemed like something to get worked up over when he was a kid, and that reaction had carried over into adulthood by sheer force of habit. It’s a little disastrous, these days, when being sick means he can’t play hockey, but all he can really do is wait for it to pass, and Patrick has learned a lot about patience since he became a Blackhawk and met Jonathan Toews. 

The very first time Patrick was sick in Chicago, he came down with a twenty four hour bug; nothing serious but still pretty miserable to experience. He’d called to say he wouldn’t make it to practice, and a doctor had been sent to check him out and report back on his condition, but Patrick had still had an hour or two to sit on the side of his tub, sighing and trying to control his nausea with his breathing between bouts of throwing up, before Jonny had shown up. 

Patrick had given him keys to his place only the week before, so he knew it was him as soon as he heard the key in the lock, but he was surprised that Jonny had let himself in. He’d thought this was going to be another one of those things Patrick had to teach Jonny not to be weird about. 

But he’d burst into Patrick’s bathroom almost out of breath and wild in the eyes, half like he was expecting to find Patrick’s dead body in there, half like he was going to murder Patrick himself. 

Patrick had had to do most of the hard work that afternoon, steadily and repeatedly assuring Jonny that he was fine, that no, he didn’t need to go to the emergency room - yes, he could remember what day of the week it was - no, he definitely wasn’t concussed - yes, he could make it to the bathroom by himself - no, he didn’t mind leaving the door open so Jonny could get to him if he needed to, if Jonny really insisted - hell fucking yes, he wanted some soup. 

Patrick had never had someone play nurse for him before, because his sisters generally told him to suck it up and that was a philosophy Patrick had always been quick to get behind, but it had been really, really nice to have Jonny hang out that afternoon and that evening too - not making Patrick fight for his attention, but giving it freely, sincerely. 

Jonny had taken care of him, and that kind of attention was always nice to luxuriate in, but having it be Jonny who was watching him so carefully, so _caringly_ , having it be Jonny’s hand on his forehead checking his temperature, his knees pulled up over Jonny’s lap so he could stay close and keep Patrick comfortable - that had been almost more than even Patrick could greedily revel in. It had been kind of Jonny - pure, honest concern for a friend, and Patrick had felt guilty for being powerless not to covet him in other ways, to want to stay a priority for Jonny’s time and attention this way every single day. 

When Jonny had tucked him into bed that night, Patrick had given into the pathetic wallowing that his heart, rather than his stomach, had prompted, and he’d asked Jonny to stay until he fell asleep. 

Jonny had smiled, and tucked himself up cross-legged on top of the covers next to Patrick, and he’d picked up the book that had been on Patrick’s bedside table, and read to him until he’d fallen asleep. 

The sun warm on his face had woken Patrick the next morning, and the grumble of his now-settled stomach was answered by a quiet commotion in the kitchen, Jonny skipping an optional skate to make Patrick breakfast. 

To this day Patrick doesn’t know whether Jonny stayed the night or went back to his place and let himself in again the next morning. Patrick hadn’t asked, and when he’d tried to say thanks Jonny had huffed and shushed him, pressed a fork into Patrick’s hand and pushed a tall glass of juice in Patrick’s direction, refusing to meet his eyes. 

Patrick hadn’t said anything about how he felt about Jonny, then, and hadn’t tried to do anything about it either. That day and night and morning after had felt more like the stuff that comes after the confessions. What they’d have to look forward to for the rest of their lives, if they ever figured out a way to make it work in the first place. 

 

____

 

iv

 

Jonny’s 100th goal game had been delightful, if you ask Patrick, but he knows he enjoyed it far more than Jonny did. That was what had made it so entertaining. 

Patrick was only a handful of goals off the milestone himself, so he’d known at the time he’d be facing the same treatment soon thereafter, but he’d also known that he’d handle the whole thing with more style and grace than Jonny, who’d been dutifully holding the taped up puck and smiling his very best ‘this is such bullshit, but whatever’ smile for the reporters. 

The sight of Jonny humouring people who weren’t him would always be one of Patrick’s favourites, and he’d sat in his stall and watched the entire show, making no move to change out of his gear for fear that he’d miss a second of it. By the time Jonny had been worn down to actually rolling his eyes at Patrick between congratulations, Patrick had been laughing himself sick. 

Jonny had tossed the puck he’d scored his hundredth goal with at Patrick, Patrick graciously chose to blame Jonny’s terrible aim for how it had almost hit him in the face, and he’d left the locker room that night with his fingers still curled carefully around it, holding on tight so he didn’t let go of everything he wanted to say. 

 

____

 

v

 

When Jonny got concussed, he wouldn’t let Patrick take care of him. He went on and on and on about Patrick’s responsibilities, everything he’d had on his plate then, and how good a job he was doing without Jonny. 

Patrick didn’t tell Jonny there wasn’t a single thing he wanted to do without him. 

Time and time again Jonny would dodge his calls and leave Patrick’s texts unanswered, and on the rare occasion that he’d pick up or respond, he’d vehemently refuse Patrick’s constant offers (more like pleas, really) to come over, to be there. 

But some nights, when the team was back home and Patrick timed it so that he got there right when Jonny was getting ready to climb into bed and not sleep, not really, Jonny would give in. He’d sigh and shake his head at Patrick, tired and blank-faced, conquered and worn, and Patrick would take advantage of that every which way he could, because he couldn’t bear to see Jonny look so lost and defeated, taken and made hollow when Patrick knew to his bones that nothing should have that power over Jonny - nothing truly did. 

On those nights when Patrick let himself in even though he knew Jonny would never let himself ask him to come over, would never even ask him to stay, Patrick stayed as close to Jonny as he could. He’d sit right next to him on the couch, making sure their thighs stayed touching, knees brushing close and warm. He’d touch Jonny’s hands every time he passed him something, the remote or a drink or phone chargers or laptop cords. He hovered when Jonny went to the bathroom, and Jonny never once called him on it. 

Patrick slept over, and he slept in Jonny’s bed. 

Every time it had happened, Patrick had woken up wrapped around Jonny. Not in a creepy or clinging way, but holding him. Letting his limbs tangle with Jonny’s where they wanted to, where their bodies met. It hadn’t been about touching Jonny, it had been about keeping Jonny safe; with the only kind of contact he’d allow. 

Patrick couldn’t get inside Jonny’s head and fix the things that were broken there, and letting Jonny see into his head and heart was a worse idea than ever, then. But he could protect Jonny by keeping him close. He could start to fix _something_ by letting Jonny know that he would never, ever leave him lonely. 

 

____

 

Back then Patrick had thought he was still searching for the right way to say how he felt. He’d found his moments, and picked his fights, and he’d given it his best shot each and every time. 

Even when he’d known he shouldn’t say anything at all, it had been easy to channel it into other kinds of communication instead. 

Patrick knew how not to tell Jonny that he was in love with him, and he knew how to try. 

He had no idea how he was supposed to act like it wasn’t true. 

 

____

 

Sharpy and Shawzy pick up on the fact that everything isn’t quite right with Patrick, even though he manages to make it all of two weeks after his realization that Jonny does not now nor will he likely ever love Patrick, before they’re banging on his front door loud and obnoxious when he’s only just gotten home from the game tonight. Which, y’know, they also played in, so what the hell are they doing here and what the fuck do they want. 

“You’re troubled, Peeks. Your rookie here felt a disturbance in the douchebag force and went looking for an adult. I don’t know whether that was because of or in spite of your training and example, but the kid did good.” 

Andrew grins proudly at Sharpy, because he’s a fucking traitor, but he hands Patrick two six packs of beer and a bottle of tequila, so Patrick can’t look a gift horse in the mouth in anger or whatever. 

Patrick rolls his eyes at them and their questions for a solid hour after they occupy his apartment under the exact opposite of welcome circumstances, but they have a day off tomorrow and he knows they’re genuinely concerned regardless of how good a job they do of covering that up with jibes and colour commentary on his lifestyle choices, so when he’s four beers down with the sting of his third shot of tequila still souring his tongue, he gives up the goods. 

“Is it animal, vegetable, or mineral,” Andrew only mostly slurs, because he’s trying to keep up with Sharpy and Patrick and he’s somehow smaller than both of them. 

Sharpy giggles, because he’s the kind of handsome asshole who can get away with that shit, but he seems to sense Patrick’s waning patience with all of this, and cuts to the chase. 

“Riddle us this, and we’ll leave you alone, we promise.” Andrew looks set to object, clearly caught up in the game and really enjoying himself now, but when Sharpy holds up a hand he instantly goes quiet. Patrick really needs to have a word with him about the chain of command, here. 

“Ugh. Fine. One question. One, and then you either get out of my apartment or do me a real solid and get out of my life.” Patrick’s feeling magnanimous, he hopes they can tell. 

Sharpy sits up straight and in an instant the dopey, drunk-loose smile falls from his face. Patrick fucking knew this asshole wouldn’t make this easy on him. 

“You only ever get like this for one of three reasons, Kaner, and I’ve got my suspicions but I need you to confirm. Is it a) that weird self esteem thing you seem to regularly schedule every year, b) you’ve been dumped yet again by someone you wisely chose to not even tell us about in the first place, or is it c) a certain generously buttocked but painfully oblivious captain that we all know and you love in your own special way?” 

Fuck Sharpy. Fucking fuck him, Patrick thinks, but he knows that even if he wasn’t almost wasted he still wouldn’t have the energy to be mad at Sharpy for letting him keep none of his secrets. 

He throws down a shot before he answers, and he washes what he says down with another one, but he keeps his promise all the same. 

“T’last one,” he mutters, and then he keeps his other promise and tosses them both out of his apartment, hanging on to the bottle of tequila for reasons that are all his own. 

 

____

 

It’s pretty fitting to clear out their lockers and get one final verbal acid bath from the media while he’s nursing his worst hangover in years, and Patrick barely bats an eyelid at the reminders of everything he’s gotten wrong this season. 

The circumstances of this one had gotten progressively worse and worse as it went on, and their professional tragedies had spilled over into Patrick’s personal life too, although the media would paint it the other way around. 

It’s easy to stand up there and listen to the charges levelled against him, to answer and respond with humble acceptance and the promise to do better next year. 

Patrick is playing against what is roughly a four month deficit right now, but he figures he’s due a comeback. All he has to do is wait for his shot.

While he waits, Patrick fully intends to get familiar with a complete different kind of shot.

 

____

 

Jonny calls Patrick late one night, when Patrick has made the interesting and regrettable decision to stay sober during a team night out, ostensibly because he doesn’t _need_ to be wasted to witness Jonny going home with people who aren’t him, but realistically because Patrick hates himself for needing to get shitfaced to deal with it, and figures maybe if he finds a way to make it hurt even more, that will somehow work it out of his system. 

Unsurprisingly, he’s wrong. 

Jonny goes home with a guy that’s a little shorter than him, much broader in the shoulders, with sandy brown hair and the kind of smug smile that wouldn’t look out of place on an Abercrombie model. Patrick has long since given up on analyzing Jonny’s taste in bed buddies, but he finds it in himself to find himself lacking in comparison tonight, for old time’s sake. 

Patrick hangs out with the guys for another couple of hours, not wanting to wuss out and bail the second Jonny walks out the door with a stranger’s hand already possessive on his waist, but when he does go home he heads straight for the liquor cabinet in his kitchen without pausing to take his jacket or shoes off first. He drinks four shots in quick succession before he feels like walking away from the bottle, and he’s standing barefoot in front of his view of the city, seriously contemplating a fifth, when his phone vibrates in his pocket. 

When Jonny’s name flashes up on the caller ID Patrick assumes it’s a pocket dial, and it’s only out of a morbid curiosity for what he might hear if Jonny doesn’t know he’s listening that he answers. 

So, when after a pause, Jonny says, “Kaner?” Patrick almost drops the phone. 

“Ummm yes?” Smooth. So smooth. 

“Hey. I - I uh …” Jonny trails off, and he sounds strange - weirdly _young_ , unsure of himself. 

“Is everything okay?” Patrick interrupts, because he’s a fucking glutton for punishment. Next he’ll be asking Jonny if he can bring him over more lube and condoms or something, “aren’t you - didn’t you hook up? You’re not supposed to boast to your teammates until the morning after, dude.” 

Patrick can practically hear Jonny rolling his eyes. 

“Have some class, Kaner. I’m - uh - I’m back at my place.” 

Patrick waits. 

“............................... and you’re calling me because ….....” 

Patrick waits some more. Jonny hadn’t been drinking at the bar either, and it doesn’t sound like he’s been drinking since he left, so this isn’t a drunken ode to Patrick’s skill as a hockey player, which seem to be Jonny’s version of the wasted confessional. 

Jonny sighs, and he sounds tired when he finally speaks. 

“I just … I don’t know, Pat. I came home and I … I wanted to talk to you, before I fell asleep. Didn’t really feel like I could fall asleep if I didn’t.” 

Patrick wonders if Sharpy has been on Jonny’s case - if this is some further attempt to do damage control. Patrick really isn’t in the mood to be handled right now. 

“Look Jonny, if Sharpy talked to you, you should ignore whatever he said, okay? I’m fine, it’s not a big deal, we’re good. There’s really no need whatsoever to drag all that out into the open again. We’re all adults, lets just leave things where they are.” 

Jonny sighs again. Patrick gets that Jonny doesn’t like admitting defeat for any reason, and has probably managed to avoid doing so completely up until now, but he’s gonna have to suck it up and take the ‘L’ this time, because Patrick really can’t do this again. He can’t feel like this any more. 

“Yeah. Sure, Kaner. If you’re okay with that, I can be too. I had to give it one more shot, but I hear you. I get it. Sleep well. ‘Night.” 

Jonny hangs up without letting Patrick say goodbye, but that’s fine by Patrick. He’s kind of sick of saying it. 

 

____

 

Thankfully, as far as his liver is concerned at least, Patrick’s summer is a sad and lonely shitshow, and then he gets to run away to Switzerland. 

The cold, clean air does him a lot of good, and Tyler Seguin is about as bad for him as he’d hoped he would be, in the best ways possible, so all things considered the lockout isn’t the worst thing that’s ever happened to Patrick Kane. It sure beats sticking around and feeling like he’s failing miserably at getting over someone he didn’t even get to date in the first place. 

 

____

 

Jonny texts Patrick pretty often when he’s in Biel, but it’s all NHLPA stuff that Patrick can and does keep up with online, so he doesn’t feel the need to respond to the messages. Jonny keeps sending them, regardless, and when he calls a couple times Patrick sends him to voicemail. 

Patrick replies to the group emails about where everyone is and what everyone’s up to during the lockout, so he figures that’s a way of maintaining the same level of contact with Jonny that he does with everyone else on the team - and that’s how Jonny wants to be treated, now. 

Seguin asks about it a couple of times. Judging by his level of shock and bizarre outrage on Jonny’s part, the rest of the league thinks the two of them are legit married or something, and Patrick tries to quash Seguin’s interest in and support for his and Jonny’s totally non-existent epic love as soon as he realizes this, but the guy remains steadfast in his concern and the most Patrick has to deal with Jonny during his European adventure is in explaining to Seguin over and over again that it’s not like that, that they’re just teammates. 

It’s good practice, because that’s exactly what they’ll be, and all they’ll be, when Patrick returns home. 

Patrick knows it doesn’t bode well that he can’t even convince Tyler fucking Seguin that he’s mistaken about his wild assumptions. 

Eventually, out of several different kinds of desperation, Patrick hooks up with him. It turns out that Seguin has no moral objections to fucking a dude who is in love with someone else, because he still doesn’t believe Patrick and keeps bursting into his room at what he must believe to be surprising and unexpected times, leaving each and every time disappointed that he didn’t interrupt Skype sex or something. 

Patrick learns a lot about the combination of sex and technology when he’s in Biel, and he learns a couple things about himself at the hands of Tyler Seguin of all people. He learns a little more about his game, and he learns next to nothing of the German language. 

He tries his very hardest to unlearn everything he’s learned to love about Jonny, but the only thing he’s completely successful in is forgetting to not miss him. 

 

____

 

Jonny is waiting for Patrick at arrivals, and Patrick doesn’t say anything about that, even though he kind of wants to kick and scream and maybe punch Jonny until he goes away. That should probably have been his first clue that he’s not as ready to deal with this as he hoped he’d be, but it’s not until Jonny pulls him into a hug that Patrick realizes that particularly glittering truth nugget. 

He’s wearing a dumb white v-neck tshirt, and a dumb backwards baseball cap, and dumb black jeans and he’s tan and smiling shyly and then he’s holding Patrick close and pressing his dumb fucking face in against the side of Patrick’s throat, humming against Patrick’s skin like this is good, like their bodies belong together, and Patrick wants to turn around and walk straight back onto a plane to anywhere that isn’t here. 

Maybe Patrick made some progress in Biel, because he can absolutely visualize some idea of Jonathan Toews that’s just his teammate, just his captain, just his friend without being someone that Patrick is especially close to. That picture makes sense in a purely theoretical sense, which is something, Patrick’s sure. 

But it’s nothing - _nothing_ \- compared to the reality of Jonny standing in front of Patrick, grinning at him and warm everywhere he’s holding them pressed together, straining still like he can’t get close enough. 

Patrick is objectively aware that it’s possible to not be in love with Jonny. He knows all too well that it would be preferable to pretty much everyone, including himself these days, if he wasn’t. 

The trouble is that he doesn’t know how to know Jonny and not love him. Not just a bit, not just a leftover ghost of something he felt before. Full blown, deafening, absolute love that blooms in Patrick’s chest every time he looks at him, even now. Even after everything. 

Patrick mumbles something about jet lag and being groggy from his flight, and Jonny seems happy enough to babble about things Patrick may have missed while he was away, even though everything he says Patrick has read about in emails and text messages, mostly from Jonny himself. Jonny talks and drives and glances over at Patrick every chance he gets, almost like he’s checking to make sure Patrick hasn’t disappeared, and Patrick wishes he could. 

Jonny makes to follow him upstairs when they get back to Patrick’s place, but Patrick waves him off with more excuses and Jonny nods, quiet now, the smile slipping from his face. He takes his keys out of his ignition and sits with his hands folded in his lap. 

“Kaner. Patrick. Are we - do you - I really missed you.” 

He says it like he’s offering something up, and then sits staring at Patrick like it’s an exchange, like there’s something he needs from Patrick in return. 

All Patrick has to give Jonny is everything that he is, all the love his small, humble body can hold. 

But Jonny doesn’t want that, so Patrick is tapped out. Maybe someday he’ll learn how to be more, how to find something else in himself that Jonny could use, but for now he can’t do anything but will away his truth. 

“It’s good to be back,” Patrick says, and then he climbs out of the car and walks away without looking back. 

Being back in Chicago and making the trek up to his apartment with that moment behind him feels more like leaving home than anything else ever has. 

 

____

 

As a general rule, Patrick doesn’t really do the hook up thing anymore. He did it really often and really well before he met Jonny, and when he still wasn’t completely certain of how he felt it was an easy habit to fall back on. But back then it had been the simple, easy case of sleeping with someone you wanted to sleep with, when all you had in common was that they wanted to sleep with you too. And now it would be a case of sleeping with someone he wants to sleep with, someone who wants to sleep with him, when there’s still always someone else he’d rather be sleeping with. Rather be with period. 

As a general rule, Patrick doesn’t really do the hook up thing anymore, but then Brandon Saad swings back into town, and Patrick might have cause to reconsider that. 

 

____

 

Rookies are Patrick’s thing. Or they’ve pretty naturally tended to respond well to his tutelage, at least. They’re always awed by Jonny in the beginning, but they quickly realize that while he might be the hero type, that essentially just makes him all the more terrible to hang out with, because he’s good and kind and caring and so, so boring to be around. 

Patrick doesn’t find him boring, but that speaks more to Patrick’s ability to keep himself entertained than Jonny’s. 

In the early days, one of Patrick’s favourite ways to pass the evenings they’d spent holed up in hotel rooms on the road together was to simply sit still and watch Jonny. Watch his workout routine incredulously, watch him on the phone to his family wincing sympathetically, watch him walk and talk and eat and think in nothing less than awe. Patrick is definitely not naturally inclined toward stillness in any situation, but Jonny is the difference there, too, because Patrick hadn’t really stopped moving, he’d just shifted the focus of his energy to the first thing he’d found that could take it all on board and hold him in hand. Patrick still doesn’t know why that’s Jonny. There are plenty of things that are special about him, but almost everyone around them is special in some way or another, and Jonny’s skills aren’t even particularly dazzling. It’s something in that that makes him fascinating to Patrick, Patrick has managed to figure out. There’s nothing that stands out about Jonny because Jonny doesn’t want to stand out. He executes everything he puts his mind or turns his hands to with a kind of absolute skill and attention that some people have for some things, not everything, but still Jonny doesn’t make a show of it because Jonny is honest to god _bored_ by the attention that falls on him like a spotlight and tries to show him on a pedestal. Jonny doesn’t have time to pause for applause, because Jonny moves on to the next thing as soon as he has completed this one - the in between is about reflection with a mind toward always improving, putting his victories to good use in bigger pursuits rather than mounting them as untouchable, dead trinkets. 

Patrick is fascinated by Jonny because even though they go about it in vastly different ways, they both want to prove themselves _to_ themselves, and maybe one another, but only because they each recognize in each other that same priority, the understanding of that need and drive. 

There’s a little bit of something to love in everything Jonny does, and Patrick sees an abstract, inverted outline of himself that runs just deep enough in Jonny to draw Patrick in while protecting the total mystery of Jonathan Toews that Patrick will spend the rest of his life trying to figure out, if Jonny will let him. 

Patrick knows from experience that Jonny makes much less sense to everyone else, and at first that had been a cause for frustration, because why did Patrick get saddled with deciphering and translating the savant? But more and more Jonny lets Patrick in on the things he doesn’t need to share, the things he wants to share with Patrick, instead, and that’s reward and challenge and incentive all wrapped up in one. 

It hadn’t taken long for Patrick to recognize that for what it was, but even that had taken longer than Patrick’s smug satisfaction at being better at this one thing, being better at _Jonny_ than anyone else, to be realized. 

For that reason, Patrick doesn’t take too kindly to people who take too quickly to being what Jonny needs, and he takes even less kindly to people who take pride in their efforts at that. Sometimes people happen to be there to give Jonny what he wants, and sometimes other people can provide understanding and satiation that Patrick can’t give him or Jonny won’t ask for, but it’s never a continual occurrence, and Patrick never really has any true competition in that sense. Or in any other sense, if we’re still stuck on the technical truth of the thing. 

Someone really needs to show Brandon Saad the lay of the land, is the other thing. The far more immediately pressing thing. 

Patrick appreciates rookie excellence and the cockiness that very naturally accompanies that, because he is Patrick Kane, lest anyone forget it. But even as a rookie Patrick knew not to mess with things that were beyond him, and Saad doesn’t seem to have picked up on that sense or skill yet. 

Patrick would of course be more than happy to be his guide on that, but Jonny has for some unknown but surely god-awful reason deigned to claim this rookie for himself, because never let it be said that Jonny isn’t terribly skilled at making bad things much, much worse. It’s kind of his speciality. Normally it’s Patrick’s favourite thing about him, but this instance has him pissed. 

It’s not the sharing that’s the issue, because Patrick can give anyone who wants it as much of Jonny’s time as they can get. Most of the time that’s very little, before Jonny loses his interest in or patience with them, but even when they last a while Patrick knows Jonny would rather be hanging out with him, will come back to him in the end, and that’s a kind of security that Patrick appreciates and thrives on. 

Saader doesn’t just occupy Patrick’s space next to Jonny, he does so the very way Patrick does. 

The season has just begun, and Patrick has just come home, and he knows he’s not supposed to be in love with Jonny, he understands why he can’t be as pathetically obvious about that as he let himself be before. But his friendship with Jonny is territory Patrick won’t ever give up his claim to, and to have it so blatantly challenged, with support from Jonny himself, is unacceptable at a time like this. 

It’s agonizing, is what it is; tugging and biting like wire barbed around the heart that Patrick has spent months working hard to harden, but he grits his teeth against the sting and focuses on his anger; stays safely in the red. He can give up what won’t ever be his, he’s determined to show Jonny and everyone else that he can, but he won’t be tested on what’s already rightfully his. 

 

____

 

His great display of impassioned resistance mostly amounts to a lot of heated glares and terse responses to totally innocent questions and comments from the rookie, and that’s why Patrick is still working to bring defense into his game after all this time. It doesn’t go unnoticed, though, and it makes Jonny pissy with him, even more distant than he’d been before. 

Ever since their incident after the airport, Jonny has kept him at arm’s length. He’ll tell anyone who brandishes a mic at him or cares to ask a question even vaguely in the vicinity of the topic that having Patrick back is basically the greatest thing that’s ever happened to him, but he sure doesn’t act like it. He looks at Patrick like he’s somehow not home _enough_ for Jonny’s liking, like he’s still somehow cause for those wistful, wanting stares. Patrick gets it. Jonny wants Patrick to give up on feeling things for him that Jonny won’t return, because he wants their friendship to go back to how it was before Patrick fucked it up by falling in love. Patrick is trying really hard, here, but obviously not hard enough if Jonny sees fit to threaten him with a replacement. 

They still see each other all day every day, and they hang out outside of practices and games as much as they did at the end of last season, even though that in itself was something of an all time low for them. Patrick can only take solace in the fact that this isn’t worse. Not yet, at least. 

Saader is already winning in terms of time he spends with Jonny, but almost everyone on the team is beating Patrick on that score, so Patrick highlights the quality of the time rather than the quantity of it as the column under which to mark himself the biggest disappointment. 

Jonny and Saad share the kind of ease that Patrick recognizes from his early days with this team, the lead in to what he and Jonny have now. Or had before, maybe. Saader is figuring Jonny out, and Jonny isn’t just letting him, he’s delighted by it. He looks at the kid in gratitude, sometimes, and that’s something so rare that seeing it on Jonny’s face for someone else is too shocking, the first few times, to do anything but surprise Patrick. It’s the subsequent times that make him sick to his stomach, as they occur with increasing frequency but never for Patrick, always Brandon’s now. 

Patrick feels like he’s already lost, so it stands to reason that all he can do is give up. 

 

____

 

Patrick still spends time with Jonny outside of the arena and before and after practices. But now there is always someone else, if not several someone elses, around to act as unwitting buffers. Sometimes it’s just Sharpy, or just Shawzy, and that’s as close as Jonny and Patrick get to being alone these days. They’re both the guilty party in that. 

By the time they’re hitting their stride into the new season, Patrick realizes it’s been over a month since they hung out just them, or text or called one another about anything that wasn’t strictly job related. 

It’s good. This is what it will be like for them from now on, and Patrick has to get used to that. 

He tries. He’s been trying. He keeps trying. 

It doesn’t ever get easier, but as time passes Patrick makes it less obvious to everyone around him that he’s hurting and more than a little bit lost. He’s too tired to get it up for anything but hockey, now. 

 

____

 

Saader seeks him out, and if Patrick wasn’t so lonely and morose, he’d maybe find it in himself to be impressed. 

“One franchise face not enough for you, now? You don’t need to bother trying to win me over as well, bud, you’re probably going to replace me there soon enough, too.” 

Being miserable is a lot like being wasted, Patrick finds. It makes him bitterly, brutally honest, but it’s worse like this because there’s nothing to dull the cut of the tail end of it for him. 

At least Brandon looks pretty cut up about it, too. 

Patrick always gets in extra early on game days, hangs out in the dining room and player’s lounge for a couple of hours before morning skate because he can’t sleep in and he’d rather be here than stuck at home with nothing to do. Patrick is the easiest person in the world to find, when you put your mind to it, but Jonny and Sharpy are usually the only ones who bother to actively seek him out. 

Saader doesn’t even pretend he’s not for here for Patrick, to his credit, and crossed the dining room with purpose, without hesitation. 

He frowns when Patrick all but outrightly accuses him of stealing his best friend and coveting his metaphorical crowning glory. 

“I - I wouldn’t ever - I’d _never_ \- he’d - you know you’re Jonny’s favourite, though, right? Like even if for some insane reason I decided to try and test that … nevermind,” he pauses, shivering, “point is, you should really stop being so mean to Tazer. You’re making him sad, and no-one knows what in the hell is going on between you two, I definitely don’t, but Sharpy says I’m the only one new enough to still be in with a chance of getting through to you, so here I am.”

Patrick is, for the first time in quite a while, speechless. 

“Me? Stop being mean to _him_!?” Patrick shakes his head, “cute, rookie. But he’s the one who decided to trade me in for a younger model, man. Talk to your sensei about it, because this wasn’t my idea, and it’s definitely not something I’m on board with.” 

Patrick hopes that will be that, that he’ll turn Brandon around in his tracks and get on with his breakfast and have a good practice and maybe score a goal or something tonight, but because this is his luck lately, the kid lingers. It’s unfortunate, because the more Patrick has to listen to him, the more difficult he finds it to hate the dude. Having him stalk Patrick down like Jonny’s attack dog should have been the ultimate ammunition for that, he’s sure, but Patrick finds himself at a new all time low when he realizes he’s instead heartened to know that his successor will keep an eye out for Jonny; clearly has his best interests in mind already. 

“I just - we all assumed that you were the one doing the pushing here, because I guess we didn’t figure he ever would. I’m sorry that’s the way it is, that sucks. But you’ll figure it out, man. You have to. He’s … him, and you’re, you know, _you_ and together you’re - you’re both - you know?” 

Patrick used to know, maybe, although god knows how he even deciphers what Saader is trying to say, here. This entire conversation probably appears in a hockey player handbook somewhere: awkward teammate bonding 101. 

“We’ll figure it out,” Patrick shrugs, but what he means is that he’ll find a way to make it work if it kills him, because he’s not leaving Chicago and Jonny definitely isn’t leaving Chicago and they still play pretty well together even if they’re a fucking disaster when anything but their professional pride is on the line. 

Saader gets up and wanders off to pile a plate high with food, and then he returns to sit back down opposite Patrick even though literally every other table in the place is free. They eat in silence, but it becomes companionable once Saad has flicked a few spoonfuls of scrambled egg in Patrick’s direction and Patrick has retaliated in kind, showing Brandon he doesn’t mess around with a well aimed sausage missile. 

They kick at each other under the table like kids, like it’s that easy to turn rivalry into tentative friendship. Maybe it is when that rivalry was only ever really felt by one of them. No-one shoots them any funny or confused looks when the rest of the team start trickling in and Patrick wishes he could kick himself. It’s one thing to be a complete idiot over Jonny, and it’s one that Patrick still worries he’ll never grow out of, but no-one else in this locker room or Patrick’s life deserves to get caught up in that. 

Patrick has no excuse to drag anyone else under with him, but he watches the way Saader’s eyelashes dip low and shy when Jonny walks by and wonders if maybe he’s sharing the undertow already. 

 

____

 

Things get straight up weird, after that. 

Saader and Jonny are still joined at the hip, and it still gets under Patrick’s skin, but whenever Brandon isn’t looking to Jonny for direction or approval, he’s looking at Patrick the very same way, and Patrick doesn’t get it. Everyone else on the team seems to be giving the pair of them a wide berth, clearly unwilling to get involved in whatever has brought on this latest cold war, but Brandon moves in the opposite direction, drawing closer to Jonny and making himself completely available to Patrick, too. Maybe he thinks he can be a conduit between them, can help somehow to bring them back together. Or maybe he’s a rookie who is looking for friendship and guidance anywhere he can get it. 

Patrick still feels guilty for projecting, so he hangs out with Brandon as often as the kid wants, and they all fall into a pretty easy and completely agonizing timeshare; Jonny and Patrick passing Brandon back and forth between them, still having no contact themselves, not speaking outside of practices and games, barely making eye contact. Brandon doesn’t talk to Patrick about Jonny. 

Patrick is sure Jonny doesn’t care to ever ask Brandon about him. 

 

____

 

The winning streak only really becomes surreal once it’s over, because that’s when it becomes real. It’s never solidified, never anything tangible in figures or experience until it’s mercifully ended and they can stop fielding dumb questions about it. 

It doesn’t feel right or true that this is looking likely to end as their best season in years, when it’s already a personal tragedy for Patrick. This season has been worse than last, and if you’d told Patrick that was even possible three months ago he’d have stayed in Biel for the rest of the season. Maybe the rest of his life. 

Patrick is having a great season, Jonny is having a great season, Brandon is maybe having a better season than both of them. They haven’t suffered any horrifying injuries, at least not until Sharpy takes it upon himself to get out of the game while they’re still undefeated, crowing about his personal and continuing streak so loudly that Patrick wonders, just for a second, if this was intentional. They’re already gearing up for what looks set to hopefully, hopefully be a deep playoff run, and Patrick is more ready now than he’s ever been to give that his all. Playoffs aren’t new to him anymore, he’s in the best shape of his career, and this is the first season for a few when there hasn’t been a single team they needed to be wary of; couldn’t overcome if they simply did their best. 

Patrick is ready for the effort, he’s eager to wear himself out in pursuit of something that feels like it’s already theirs. 

He focuses on the fight that looms, and he doesn’t think about what it would be like to win, because he’s afraid to find out that he doesn’t really want it, if he can’t share it with Jonny. 

 

____

 

They all get caught up in a weird energy right before the playoffs, when they’ve still got almost two weeks of regular season games to play and each and every one of those matters, but this year these last games feel so removed from the playoffs, because there’s nothing else they need to do to get there. They’re already in, so now they’re playing for nothing but pride and practice. 

Practices, pranks and pre-game soccer all take on an edge of tension that bleeds out around the game when that can’t be the focus of their competitive energy. They’d never get vicious with one another, but the stakes are clearly upped and everyone feels it, everyone is helpless in how it’s worked out in each of them. 

Jonny retreats. The game face he puts on for reporters all year round doesn’t come off at this time of year, and you’d think maybe it might given their position now, but it’s worse than when they’re fighting for their spot, worse than Patrick has ever seen it. It’s better, too, because Patrick knows Jonny doesn’t need anyone to go in after him and drag him back out. He hasn’t got anything to work through this year, nothing to be penitent about, so he’s gearing up for what comes next, and Patrick is happy enough to leave him alone in that, even if he’s not at all happy about the knowledge that there’s probably nothing he could do if he wasn’t, in fact, happy about it at all. 

Sharpy becomes even more mellow, more ever-present, more loving, _more_ period. Patrick appreciates it now, though he’ll never let it be known. 

Patrick doesn’t fold inward the way Jonny does, but he does close up ranks a little bit, spreading out in the places he feels most comfortable and not looking to add to that territory right now. That mostly entails taking Sharpy up on the wordless, unprovoked offer to be all up in his space all the time, and Patrick thrives on the arms slung around his shoulders, the stick taps, the helmet pats, the hands on his forearms and the knuckles drummed against his biceps. Patrick has always flourished under physical attention, but this is the first time in a while that he’s left himself so open to it; has found himself so dependent on it. Jonny touched him a lot, before, just in easy, meaningless, buddy ways, but Patrick found meaning in them that hadn’t been there at all. He’d written them a whole new language for what every touch said, before Jonny made it clear that it wasn’t like that for him; that whatever he might have been saying wasn’t addressed to Patrick in particular. It had taken a while to re-assign meaning and feeling to something that had been more for Patrick, but he’s really hitting his stride now, and ultimately it’s just unfortunate that Patrick getting comfortable and touch-happy in his safe spaces coincides so well with Brandon’s habitual change before the post-season. 

Rookie or no, Brandon is playing on their top line, and he’s literally and figuratively surrounded by support, so Patrick shouldn’t be too surprised that he doesn’t balk and go a little crazy with the tension the way Patrick probably did the very first time he made it to the playoffs, or would have if Jonny hadn’t been there to tell him to get it together before he embarrassed them both. 

Truth be told, Patrick’s glad Brandon is dealing with it so much better. But he really hadn’t counted on Brandon’s method of dealing with it being … well … what it is. 

It’s like he looks at everything Jonny’s doing, and does the opposite. And really, really well. He becomes languid and completely at ease, tension pushed from his body like a sheet pushed off on a hot summer’s night. Everywhere he goes he sprawls, and he drapes himself across furniture, around his teammates. 

If Patrick didn’t know better, he’d say Brandon looks constantly very thoroughly and very well fucked all the time now, and Patrick only knows better in the first place because he’d been so suspicious of just that being the case that he’d had to _ask_. He hadn’t had to go so far as to ask whether Jonny was involved. He knew he didn’t want to hear the answer to that. 

So Brandon sprawls, and Patrick rolls with it, and when Jonny happens upon them as they sit overlapping he looks at them both like they just announced they’ve signed ten year contracts with the Detroit Red Wings. 

Patrick pretends that Jonny being jealous over him hogging his rookie is the only plausible reason for any and all of this, and Brandon remains blissfully, comfortably unaware of the cold snap that leaves Patrick shivering for all the wrong reasons. 

 

____

 

In hindsight, Patrick can see that his focus has been so completely trained on not paying attention to Jonny that he’s left himself more or less blind to other things happening around him. 

Like, immediately around him. 

Because Brandon is all up in his space these days, and that’s fine; so is Sharpy, so is Carcillo, so is Duncs. More often than not Patrick adds a little Hot Shawce to all of those sandwiches. They’re a cuddly bunch and they always have been, always get even more so in the run up to playoffs. The difference this year is only Jonny’s absence from Patrick’s side, and the fact that when Brandon sidles up to him at the bar after a big win over the Stars and says; 

“Hey, so do you maybe wanna make out?” 

Patrick only thinks ‘huh’ for a second before he says “Okay, let me close up my tab and we can get out of here.” 

 

____

 

Hooking up with Saader is _fun_

There are no feelings, no complications, but trust and the kind of genuine friendship that makes it super fucking easy to trade messy, eager blowjobs and then make out on Patrick’s couch until they fall asleep. 

The first time it happens, Patrick pauses as he’s wiping his and Brandon’s come from his abs, and says “You uh - you get that I’m hung up on Jonny, right?” and Brandon looks up from where he’s zipping up his jeans and says “Absolutely. Me too, a little bit, in a messed up hero-worship kind of way. Not that I think it compares at all. And also not to say that that’s not sort of exactly what I’m getting here, too.” He grins, and Patrick has never felt so fond of a dude that he wanted to maybe come on his face, before, so he figures this is an educational experience for everyone involved. 

So they keep it up, and they keep it on the down low, and they both give each other something that doesn’t cost them anything; something that makes them happy without hurting anyone. 

Everyone’s a winner. 

 

_____

 

Except Saad might also be a complete idiot, because he keeps insisting that Patrick’s feelings for Jonny are mutual, and talking about the two of them like their future together has been written in the stars since the dawn of time itself or since their draft years or whatever. 

One morning after Brandon slept over and Patrick cornered him in the shower the next morning to kiss him and rub up against him until Brandon was begging for Patrick’s hands - too greedy to give up his mouth - they’re drying off and getting dressed for morning skate when they almost grab one another’s hoodies by mistake, and this of all things gives Brandon some kind of crisis of conscience. 

He sits down heavily on Patrick’s bed, and runs a thumb over the #88 on the sweatshirt in his hands. 

“Don’t get me wrong, I get why you’re doing this, and I’m totally glad that you are, but you’ve got to know that this would kill him, right?” 

Patrick doesn’t get it, at first. 

“I know he’s an intense dude, but I’m pretty sure Jonny’s feelings on my attire aren’t quite at that level, man.” 

Neither of them address the fact that Patrick didn’t need or ask for clarification on who Brandon was referring to. 

“Not that, idiot, _this_ ,” Brandon says, gesturing between their dicks. 

Oh. 

“Oh,” Patrick says, trying to stall for time. “Um. If - I mean, if you think you could make it work, I wouldn’t stand in your way. I want him to be happy, and I’m probably gonna be miserable either way, so it would be cool if you got to be happy, too. Two out of three isn’t bad.” 

It’s convincing. Patrick almost believes it himself. But Brandon is staring at him like he just announced his intentions to sign a ten year contract with the Detroit Red Wings. 

“Are you concussed? Have you both had some very serious but undiagnosed head injury for the past year? Because I’m serious when I say there has to be a medical explanation for this level of density. I’m talking about _you_ , Kaner. You and Tazer - our captain, Jonathan Toews? Remember him? He’s fucking crazy about you, and you’re crazy about him, and the two of you must be a special new kind of crazy, because you both find a hundred different reasons to fuck that up without ever even going there. Like would it kill you to have a conversation with him?” 

Patrick tugs the hoodie out of Brandon’s hands and pulls it on over his head, looking around for his keys and wallet and already mentally exiting this conversation. 

“We’ve been through this, buddy. Me and him, and you and I. I’ve told him; he knows how I feel. We’ve talked about it several times, actually, and every time he tells me ‘no’ and tells me to get over it, so that’s what I’m doing. Not - not with you, I mean. By doing whatever I’d do in a world where he didn’t exist, I guess. Because that’s what he wants me to do. That’s what he’s asked me to do, Brandon.” 

Brandon doesn’t try to argue with him, and they’re both so lost in their own thoughts by the time they arrive at the United Center that neither of them notice Jonny duck behind a car across the parking lot to watch them climb out of Patrick’s hummer together, watch Brandon pull Patrick’s phone out of his pocket and hand it over, because he’d picked it up with his before they left. 

It’s not strange for them to walk in together, but it’s a little weird how Jonny follows them in a moment later, pale and frowning and refusing to meet anyone’s eyes until they’re geared up and heading out onto the ice. 

 

____

 

It’s easier not playing on Jonny’s line now that they’re not friends. It wasn’t that difficult when they were close, but at times it had been tough to sit on the bench and see Jonny struggle out there when Patrick knew he could help, even if he was already helping by centering the second line. They play better together, and no-one tries to suggest otherwise, but they can do more than enough when they’re split up. 

Jonny still yells at him when they’re out there together on the power play, and sometimes he’ll yell at Patrick on the bench, but it’s not the same as it was before. 

They’re going through the motions. And they can stick to that for now - it’s been manageable through the shortened season. But playoffs call for more, and Patrick can’t lie - he’s terrified that when they try to force that, it won’t work. 

Ironically, hooking up with Brandon makes it easier to test the waters with Jonny. 

Brandon’s attitude is kind of infectious, and even though what they’re doing isn’t serious for either of them, it still provides a strange kind of balance in Patrick’s life. Hockey is good, things with Brandon are simple but good, and that weighs the positives to almost match the gaping hole of where Jonny used to be. Patrick is starting to realize that it’s not about getting over Jonny, because that’s impossible to do when he’s still everywhere. For right now it’s got to be about finding other things to tie himself into; ways to spread out and stay secured to the other things that matter to him so the roughest days without Jonny don’t threaten to topple him. 

It helps that Patrick still can’t bring himself to be mad at Jonny, or to respect and appreciate him any less. He misses him, and that’s a good place to start. 

Patrick isn’t ready to jump right back into the kind of proximity they maintained before, and that’s not what Jonny is offering up right now, either, but Patrick becomes more openly responsive to Jonny when he’s around; engaged in conversation and available in any way Jonny might need him. 

Jonny responds in kind; drawing closer to Patrick in the locker room and dragging him into conversation, texting him a little bit more and even sitting next to him on their flights to Vancouver and Edmonton that week. That’s incredibly unusual, and Patrick would think maybe Jonny was having a hard time with the distance too, were it not for how there are still times when Jonny completely shuts down around him and even actively rebuffs Patrick’s attempts to make this easier on both of them. 

It makes sense that the three of them hang out together - he and Jonny and Brandon - when things are getting better between Patrick and Jonny and Brandon doesn’t have to be caught in the middle anymore. 

Why Jonny seems to disagree so strongly, and only on that point and for those circumstances, Patrick really has no clue. But it suggests that however well Patrick may have known Jonny before, he’s lost his read on him now. 

 

____

 

They have a couple days off after they lose in St. Louis, and it’s not the end of the world that they dropped a game, but Patrick is never on board with giving T.J. Oshie cause to smile. He and Jonny are still close, so Patrick has had to tolerate his company far too many times over the years, and he’s sure the guy is probably objectively not completely awful, but Patrick personally finds him to be just that. Jonny is different around him and different in ways that would otherwise endear him even more to Patrick, but the fact that it’s someone else - and Oshie at that - who brings that side out in Jonny makes it near impossible to bear, to be around. 

So it works out pretty well that Patrick doesn’t have a front row seat to the T.J. & Jonny show now that he’s no longer always at Jonny’s side, when their captain all but orders them to fraternize with the enemy and go out for drinks with the team that just beat them. 

It’s the end of the regular season, so Patrick can’t figure a way to beg off of going at all, but it’s a relief to be able to sit in the back with his current and former rookie proteges and keep his back to the horrific sight of Jonny practically guffawing at whatever that idiot is saying. 

Of course, because this is Patrick’s life after all, T.J. comes looking for him anyway, and has the gall to wave Patrick’s court away with a lofty flick of his hand. It’s humiliating that they obey - _humiliating_. But Patrick takes a deep breath and steels his nerves, pasting a smile onto his face because he doesn’t have to put up with Oshie’s shit anymore, and that might just be the singular upside of Jonny dumping his ass before he ever even put a hand on it, let alone the ring Patrick had been angling for. 

“Good game, bro.” Patrick says, stressing the term of anti-endearment because he likes to remind Oshie that he’s a douchebag as much and as often as possible. 

Oshie snorts as he slides into the seat across from Patrick, and Patrick glances back over his shoulder to check where Jonny is right now, because he half fears he must be tied to a chair somewhere if T.J. and Patrick are together unsupervised. He’s not, though. He’s sitting with Brandon, staring down at the drink in his hands and picking at the label on the bottle, a nervous habit that Patrick has never ever seen Jonny give into for longer than three seconds. He looks for all the world like he just got dumped, or traded to the Red Wings, and yet he quickly shrugs off the arm Brandon tries to put around his shoulders. So now they’re both frowning at their beers, and Patrick is sitting with T.J. Oshie. If nothing else, maybe Patrick’s seemingly innate ability to ruin the lives of everyone he cares about will somehow extend to Oshie - someone he doesn’t care about at all. 

“Yeah, right, whatever. Look I get that you’re a little asshole, even you get that. But we both know that Jonny loves you anyway, so lets not even pretend to debate that fact.” 

Patrick sits, stunned, unable to do anything but wait for Oshie to get to the point, because he can’t possibly cut him off or call him names when he has no clue where this is going. 

“Kaner, I know that you hate me, and as a general rule that’s something I’m pretty proud of, but I’m biting the bullet and appealing to whatever sense of decency you hopefully mistakenly picked up along the way, here, because Jonny needs you whether you can agree on your place in his life or not. He’s stubborn, and you’re whatever the next evolution of stubborn is, so I know I’m probably pissing in the wind here, but could you please, Kaner, _please_ take him back?” 

Oshie says, as if Patrick is the one to blame for all this. Which - you know, he is, but still. He’s trying to be what Jonny needs him to be, and he doesn’t appreciate TJ essentially telling him to be better at that, when that’s Jonny’s job. 

“I don’t know what he’s told you, or what you think he’s told you, but he’s the one who’s still making me jump through hoops, T.J. I’m trying, dude, and I know I’ve let him down, but I never meant to and I’m working hard to find a way for us to be friends again, so maybe you could just trust that, and mind your own business?” 

Patrick doesn’t mean to be pissy with T.J., for once, because the guy hasn’t made fun of Patrick or tried to get him in a sweaty headlock yet; he seems genuinely concerned for Jonny and that’s practically Patrick’s quintessence or whatever, so he’s all but powerless to resist the lure of it. But he’s frustrated that Jonny is keeping him at arm’s length now that he’s done what Jonny asked of him, now that he’s finally ready to try and work on the friendship that’s all Jonny wants from him, so adding T.J. into the mix isn’t all that easy to stomach right now. 

Even more frustratingly, Patrick being pissy seems to say to Oshie the exact opposite of what he literally just said, because he clenches his jaw and shakes his head at Patrick and looks genuinely angry with him, which is a disturbing departure from the easy-going, cool mutual irritation that they usually share. 

“I make no secret of the fact that I don’t understood how you two work together, but anyone can see that you do, even people like me who are seriously invested in seeing the exact opposite. You fucked up, but he insists that you’re still worth his time for some reason, so by all means pick and choose how you do and don’t want him, because it looks like he’ll put up with that, but don’t keep trying to bail on him, Kaner. Or do it for fucking good. You know - whichever. Just stop changing your mind and making him miserable. He doesn’t deserve it.” 

And with that, he gets up and walks away. 

Patrick is still no clearer on the point to all this. 

 

____

 

Jonny doesn’t sit with Patrick on their flight back to Chicago the next day, but he does pull him aside before they board. 

“Hey, I’m um. I’m sorry for whatever T.J. said to you last night. He gets these ideas in his head and you know what he’s like, it’s really hard to explain to him that -” 

Patrick is tired, and he’s especially tired of all this, so he cuts Jonny off before he can mumble through another explanation of how Patrick is the bad guy here and Jonny seems to have adoring fans to constantly remind him of it. 

“Whatever, man. He’s welcome to his ideas and you’re welcome to yours. We agreed to forget about all this and get the fuck on with our lives, so that’s what I’m doing and you’re cordially invited to join me in that any time.” 

Patrick really wishes Jonny would stop looking at him like he’s hurt by the things Patrick says, because this is what Jonny wanted and the looks on his face are how _Patrick_ feels. It’s fucking rude. 

 

____

 

Once home from St. Louis, they’ve got one more day before the playoffs start, and Patrick elects to spend an evening blowing off steam by blowing Brandon Saad. 

It’s a nice evening and just what Patrick needs to unwind after getting chewed out by T.J. Oshie for something that isn’t even his fault, but of course it’s ruined by Sharpy and Shawzy showing up again when Brandon’s on his way out. Of course Patrick can’t have nice things. It’s a theme. 

Shawzy smirks knowingly at Brandon as he leaves, which is distressing to witness, because Shawzy shouldn’t ever be smug about anything. Small and riled up is how Patrick likes him, and he’s told him so. Patrick has definitely let things slip with his other charges since getting into bed with the one he shares with Jonny, but it’s been a tough year and he figures he can cut himself some slack on this since he’s certainly not getting any anywhere else. 

Sharpy looks pissed as all hell, and Patrick can’t even begin to understand that because it’s not like Brandon was walking around his place naked, and if he had been whose business was that. Certainly not Sharpy’s. 

And yet. 

“I didn’t want to believe Tazer when he came crying to me about you banging his underling, and we came here to laugh about that idea with you, but jesus christ Kaner.” 

Patrick feels bad, even though he knows he shouldn’t, because he’s never been able to deal with Sharpy being really seriously mad at him. 

“That doesn’t even make sense, Sharpy. And Tazer doesn’t cry.” 

Sharpy rolls his eyes. 

“He wasn’t sobbing, Kaner, but he came to my house and willingly held my daughter and then he asked me what it was like to start a family with someone you were in love with, and five hours later when he got to the point and said you were sleeping with Saad he had tears in his fucking eyes, Patrick, and that’s my captain - that’s my _friend_.” 

To Patrick’s credit, he doesn’t throw up then and there. 

But what Sharpy’s saying seriously makes zero sense. Unless … unless Jonny very wrongly thinks that he and Brandon are serious about one another, and that has prompted him to start thinking about his own relationship status. It would be just like him to go looking for brand new ways to feel like an underachiever. Maybe he thought he and Patrick would be single forever, and maybe that made it seem like something he didn’t have to question, before. Maybe the idea of everyone around him being paired off has given him pause, and that sucks, Patrick can’t even bear to think of him upset about anything the way Sharpy just described, but it’s still not Patrick’s fault and it’s not really because of whatever he’s doing with Brandon. Sharpy needs to realize that. 

“It sucks that he’s lonely or whatever, and I wish he wasn’t. I want him to be happy too, Sharpy. I’d do anything to see him happy. But this isn’t on me and Brandon. We’re just fucking around. It doesn’t mean anything to either of us, and it definitely doesn’t mean anything to Jonny. He’s thinking about the future, is all. Maybe in ways that are new and challenging for even him, but he’ll figure it out the way he figures everything out. There’s nothing I can do about it.” 

Sharpy deflates, and throws himself down onto Patrick’s couch, tossing Shawzy an Xbox controller like he owns the place. 

“I know this has been tough on you too, Peeks, and I don’t mean to yell, but it’s the fucking worst, you know? You’ve gotta do what you’ve gotta do, even if that’s right for you and not right for him. It’s exhausting, and you’re both idiots, but I still have this awful faith in you to get it together in the end, so just … try to minimize the collateral damage between then and now, okay? I don’t want to hear a fucking thing that what you’re getting up to with that rookie, and no-one else does either.” 

Shawzy looks away from the game to tilt his head at Patrick and squint at him for a second before he concludes; 

“Actually, I could probably stand to hear a little bit about it, just leave out the butt parts?” 

Everything about this conversation is wrong. Everything about this entire situation is wrong. 

The quicker Patrick and Jonny get back on the friendship track the better for both of them, it would seem. 

 

____

 

But that’s still a struggle for Jonny, apparently, because he spends their last practice before the playoffs more focused on becoming the next airbender than say, preparing for the playoffs. 

He skates rings around everyone out there, and steals pucks like he has to sell them to eat tonight, and is generally the most obnoxious asshole on the ice, which is a pretty big accomplishment when you consider their roster and the relative merits of their very skilled pests. 

At one point Stalberg stops mid-drill because Jonny has just cut in out of nowhere to take the puck he was fucking shooting with, and yells “Hey! Hey! Quit that!” He sounds so put out by Jonny acting up that it makes Patrick laugh until he’s struggling to catch his breath, and this turns out to be a terrible idea, because Jonny spins around and pins him with a suspiciously calculating look. Patrick refusing to make eye contact with him and skating away to bother Oduya instead seems to be all the convincing Jonny needs to lock in on him as a target, and he refuses to give Patrick even a foot of space on the ice after that, shadowing him and skating around him when they line up for drills, tapping Patrick’s pads with the handle of his stick when he takes a knee to listen to Coach Q’s address. Patrick shoots him a confused, incredulous look or forty, but does his best to ignore him and get on with the practice because that’s kind of their job and also he suspects yelling at Jonny isn’t the best way to be his friend again, so he puts up and shuts up and Jonny seems to take a kind of wild satisfaction in this, which he takes as permission to keep it up. 

And then rugby tackle Patrick to the ice during a scrimmage. 

Patrick lies blinking up at the rafters, on his back with Jonny sprawled halfway across him, both their sticks knocked out of reach. Hossa skates over and stands looking down at them until Patrick sighs and lifts a glove to wave at him in some kind of assurance that he’s still alive, at least, and then Hoss smoothly swipes the puck and skates off again. Distantly, Patrick registers the sound of Q blowing his whistle sharply and muttering about forwards who have more skill than sense, but it’s muffled by his moustache so Patrick turns his attention to Jonny instead. 

“Uhh … are you gonna get off me any time today? And also could you not do that again?” 

Jonny doesn’t move, and he doesn’t say anything, he just stays staring at Patrick with his gloves on the ice on either side of him, his exposed wrists strangely, sharply solid against Patrick’s waist because it’s bare skin on skin covered only by underarmour, and everywhere else they’re pressed together is thickly padded. Jonny stares and stares and stares, even when Patrick crosses his eyes, and then he keeps right on staring, but he’s smiling now; this painfully fond, sweet smile that Patrick has missed so much he aches to see it again. Everything is good, everything is _right_ for a second, and then Jonny’s smile dims and he leans down, leans in like he’s maybe going to kiss Patrick or something insane like that, and that’s more than enough to spur Patrick into action. 

He shoves Jonny off of him and climbs back to his feet, picks up his stick and kicks Jonny’s in his direction, and then he’s skating to the net again and not thinking about the sheer stupidity of Jonathan Toews, and the complete horror they just underwent. 

If he’d thought having Jonny break his heart had been the worst thing he could have done, he’d been wrong, because maybe he’d tried to go along with it when Jonny had suggested they could fool around without it being a big deal, and maybe he would have tried to be okay with that if it had happened then, but after everything they’ve both been through with this, he can’t deal with Jonny asking him to get over him and then looking at him like he’s an option; like Patrick is someone he can still play with, when the mood strikes. 

Jonny leaves him alone for the rest of the practice, and gives him a wide berth in the locker room, and in return Patrick doesn’t punch him in the face or stand up on the bench of his stall and recite the thousand and one ways in which he’s a fucking asshole. 

Patrick grabs Brandon by the wrist as he leaves, and tows him away to his hummer not giving a single fuck who sees or what anyone thinks of that. 

 

____

 

Brandon is completely on board with Patrick’s need to hold him down and _ruin_ him that afternoon. At one point he begs Patrick to fuck him, but that’s something they say to one another sometimes and not something they’ve done yet, so Patrick adds another finger to the two he’s already stroking into him and presses his tongue up behind his balls and feels some weird sense of relieved satisfaction when Brandon groans and comes all over his own stomach in Patrick’s bed, even though Patrick hasn’t gotten off yet today and really isn’t in the mood to. 

They’re cleaned up and sprawled out in their boxers, making out just because making out is awesome, when Patrick hears his front door open. Brandon scrambles off the bed and tries valiantly to get dressed in double-time, but he only has one leg in his jeans as Jonny’s voice sounds out and gets closer. 

“Kaner? Kaner? Pat, I’m sorry about today, I didn’t mean - I came over to say I’m sorry. I know you don’t want to, but I think we should talk about -” 

Patrick doesn’t feel anything close to dread when Jonny walks in on what he has to know is the aftermath of him and Brandon fucking, but he still can’t stand to watch when Jonny’s voice cuts out and he looks from Brandon to Patrick, his expression this horrible, caved-in kind of _gutted_. Patrick knows what that look feels like, and he wouldn’t wish it on anyone, least of all Jonny. But there’s nothing Patrick can do to change it, or make it better. Nothing about that look is for Patrick, or what he is or isn’t doing with Brandon or anyone else. 

Jonny brings his hands up to his face and his shoulders hunch forward and lurch, and then he turns around and walks out without looking back. 

Patrick doesn’t go after him. 

 

____

 

Brandon leaves, and Patrick showers, and neither of them say as much, but Patrick is pretty sure they both know they’re done with whatever this was. It wasn’t the worst idea he’s ever had, and it was definitely fun while it lasted, but it’s obviously fucking Jonny up. 

Patrick wishes he could be the guy who leaves Jonny alone to figure this out by himself, because he’s not even sure he can help with this one, but he knows he’s going to try. It was nice, to pretend for a little while that Jonathan Toews isn’t his whole world, but even though Patrick has found on his journey of self discovery that there are other things in his life can require his attention, and other people out there who want him in ways that Jonny doesn’t, there isn’t anyone or anything else in the world who feel like they’re _for_ Patrick the way Jonny is. Maybe he isn’t it for him, but he’s his in some way regardless, and it’s about time they both faced up to that. 

Before that, though, there’s the small matter of the playoffs. 

 

____

 

When Patrick walks into the locker room the next morning, he’s not quite sure what he’d been expecting, but he knows it wasn’t for Jonny to corner him outside the showers and touch careful, gentle fingers to the bruise that’s coming along nicely high on the left side of Patrick’s ribs. He asks how it happened, and when Patrick is too surprised by the question to do anything but answer it, and says Jonny himself put it there when he tackled him yesterday, Jonny touches the bruise harder, pressing his fingertips into the center of it and then looking up into Patrick’s face with something that looks kind of like satisfaction. 

That’s the only time they talk about anything that isn’t strictly hockey related that day, and Patrick would ask for the locker room’s consensus on the likelihood that Jonny is in fact a doppelganger, but he isn’t in the mood for another team ribbing on his taste in CW shows. 

Precisely none of any of this is helping Patrick to get his head in the game. 

 

____

 

They take the first series against the Wild in five, and Jonny continues to act like nothing happened. He’s better with Brandon, and he’s so much worse with Patrick. He doesn’t keep his distance like Patrick thought he would, but if he gets mad he certainly doesn’t stay that way. He’s always around, and always strangely listlessly happy. He speaks to Patrick the way he spoke about him to reporters before the season started, and maybe he’s finally realized that they can be friends and pursue whatever romantic avenues they happen upon without that being something that has to have a knock-on effect on them. He plays well, even though he isn’t scoring yet, and he pumps Patrick’s tires as much if not more than he pumps the tires of the rest of the team. He’s a good captain, and that’s exactly what he’s being right now, but Patrick hopes that’s not the only reason for the upturn in things between them. 

There’s definitely an air of acceptance and tranquility about him these days, and that’s good for their game and good for Patrick. 

They’ve got five days off before their next series starts, and Patrick plans to use them wisely. 

 

____

 

He goes over to Jonny’s place with food and without being invited, but he knocks instead of letting himself in, because he’s still got his manners. 

Even though practice only let out about an hour ago, Jonny opens the door wearing plaid pyjama pants and a worn tshirt. He’s barefoot too, lest it ever be said that anything was ever easy for Patrick Kane. 

Patrick kind of wants to stay where he is and just look at Jonny for a while, maybe sketch a picture of the way Jonny’s hand curls around his doorframe or write a poem about how he’s always wanted to put his mouth on the inside of Jonny’s elbow. But instead, he pushes his way inside, starts pulling plates out of Jonny’s cupboards and dishing out their dinner, and asks if he’d interrupted what was clearly a quiet afternoon of knitting and Murder She Wrote, for Jonny. Patrick Kane and poise: brothers in arms. 

Jonny stands watching him for a moment, but Patrick doesn’t have to worry that he’s about to be tossed out, because he’s got his arms crossed and he’s looking at Patrick the same way he always used to when they’d do this; like he’s happier when he’s here, even if he himself couldn’t tell you why that was. 

He comes to stand next to Patrick and pours them drinks, and when they carry their food through to the living room and Jonny sits on the floor instead of the couch, his shoulder warm against Patrick’s knee, Patrick is so relieved; so _grateful_ that he made his way back here and was allowed to stay that he has to take a big gulp of water to deal with the lump in his throat. 

They sit and watch TV and eat, and then they sit and play video games, and then they sit and watch a movie that neither of them is paying any attention to whatsoever. They’re not totally silent, but there’s very little that they need to say, either, and it’s probably the stupidest thing in the world, but Patrick had forgotten how happy this made him. He knew he missed it, but he’d forgotten that sitting in companionable silence with Jonny or countering the surreptitiously critical things Jonny says about his game and his skill, because that’s the only way Jonny knows how to ask for Patrick’s input and advice, is pretty much the only time Patrick doesn’t feel like there’s something better he could be doing with his time. 

It’s a heady rush of joy and belonging, and now that Patrick is home, he finds he’s not at all eager to leave. 

Instead, he kicks off his shoes and makes himself more comfortable, and then he fishes ice cubes out of his empty glass and tosses them into Jonny’s lap and down the back of his shirt until Jonny is laughing and scrambling up off the floor to carry their dishes into the kitchen. When he returns and sits back down he sits slightly more in front of Patrick rather than next to him, and he lowers himself to the floor with one hand warm around Patrick’s kneecap. They always sit like this when they’re alone together, but it’s been almost a year now since they have, and Patrick hates that that’s true. He can’t go another year without this. He fucking refuses to. 

“Hey,” he says, tucking Jonny’s tag back inside the neckline of his shirt because he wants to touch him as much as he can, he wants to touch him all the time, “are you okay?” 

Jonny doesn’t shake his head or get up and walk away like he probably would have six months ago or last week. He tilts his head back until it’s resting on the couch cushion next to Patrick’s thigh, and he’s looking at him upside down when he answers. 

“Yeah, I’m getting there, I think. I know this has all been really tough on you, Kaner, and I’m so sorry about that. I thought I could handle it better, I thought I could deal, but. I’ll be better. I’ll make it work. You mean way too much to me for anything to justify fucking that up.” 

It’s good, it’s honest and it’s a start. If they both set out from that point of holding fast to how much they care about one another, they’ll make it. Patrick knows that much. He trusts that. 

“I’m sorry too,” he says, giving in at last and allowing himself to push his fingers into the thicket of Jonny’s hair and brush it away from his face, “I’m sorry it took me so long to be okay with us being friends, and I’m sorry it took us both so long to figure out how to do that, but this is good, right? Getting this back is what you wanted, and I think you were right, I think this is -” 

“Wait, wait, Kaner. Hold on a second,” Jonny interrupts, sitting up and then going to his knees so he can face Patrick, “what do you mean this is what _I_ wanted?” 

Patrick really doesn’t want this to be one of those arguments where everything is going just fine until someone says something the wrong way and ruins it all. Maybe it was a dick move to put this on Jonny, because Jonny did kind of offer Patrick what he wanted, just not the way he wanted it. 

“I mean, not that you were wrong to or whatever. I understand that you don’t feel the same way, and I’m grateful that we’re both committed to us being friends still and getting what we had back, because -” 

“Kaner,” Jonny interrupts, near-frantic now, “what do you mean ‘feel the same way.’ Feel _what_ way.” 

And cool, now Jonny is manning the dick moves by making Patrick say it out loud, but whatever, maybe it’ll be good for him, maybe it’ll be like the verbal version of burning photographs of the two of them. 

“I was in love with you. I’m sorry, I know that was out of line, I know I almost fucked everything up for us, but we’re okay now, right? We can move on from this. You said so yourself.” 

Jonny stares at Patrick. He stares and stares and stares, the expression on his face something like the ghost of the one he’d worn when he’d walked in on Patrick and Brandon. And then he shuffles forward on his knees, moves right in between Patrick’s spread legs and leans up into him, his arms around Patrick’s waist and his face pressed to Patrick’s stomach. 

He doesn’t speak for a moment, but when he does, _boy_ does he. 

“Patrick,” he says quietly, “please tell me we haven’t spent the last year godzilla-ing our own lives because we were in love with one another and somehow we both managed to not realize that was the case.” 

Patrick laughs. 

“Uh, no. No, man. I was in love with you and you said we should just be friends.” 

“Pat, why do you think I was so upset about you hooking up with Brandon?” 

“Because he was your rookie first? And because you thought we were dating or whatever and that made you lonely?” 

Jonny sits up again, and rests the length of his forearms along Patrick’s thighs, his fingers tucked under the waistband of Patrick’s sweats; warm and welcome against Patrick’s skin. 

“I was upset because I wanted you, and I couldn’t understand why he got to have you. I didn’t know how to be good enough, I didn’t know how to be what you wanted - I didn’t know what I had to do to get my hands on you.” 

But. But that doesn’t - 

“But I asked. I asked and offered and basically begged in several different ways, Jonny. And you said no. You didn’t want anyone to know, you didn’t want it enough to -” 

“Patrick, I’ve never wanted anything more. I’m in love with you. I always have been. I thought you just wanted to hook up, like you did with Saad, and I wanted to be able to give you that, if that’s all you wanted, I was gonna try if it would make you happy, but I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t have you and not have you all. I couldn’t get you here and then let you leave again, I needed you to stay, I wanted -” 

Jonny quiets when Patrick takes his face in his hands and lifts his chin, tilts Jonny’s face until he’s looking at him. 

“Say that again.” 

“Which part? Oh the - I love you? I do. I love you, Patrick. Everyone knows that. How is it possible that you didn’t?” 

Patrick sits on Jonny’s couch with his hands on Jonny and Jonny’s hands on him, and he replays what Jonny just said in his own head about fifty times in quick succession, and then he lets out a sob of laughter and says: 

“We’re idiots, and I hate us, I hate us so much, but also I love you and I never want to leave. I never wanted to in the first place. I’m fucking ridiculous for you, Jonny I went to _Switzerland_ to get over you, and even that didn’t work.” 

“So you still - you still want -” 

Patrick knots his fingers in the front of Jonny’s shirt and yanks him forward, says “I’ll always want,” and kisses Jonny for the very first time. 

 

____

 

Patrick shows up to practice the next morning wearing one of Jonny’s hoodies, and he didn’t have to grab the one with Jonny’s number on it, but he did anyway. 

Brandon is the one to lead the locker room in a slow clap, and when they’re done Sharpy drops to his knees in front of them both and pretends to sob into their legs, loudly thanking god and whoever else is listening that this didn’t kill him. 

They kill it at practice, and they plan to carry that through to the next series of the playoffs and far beyond that. 

 

____

 

That night (and on a great many nights after that) Jonny splays out against the pillows in Patrick’s bed, and dozes while Patrick reads. When Patrick puts his book down and switches off the lights, Jonny curls up around him, content and entitled. 

They start most of their mornings with arguments, because since they worked out their mistakes they’ve resolved to tell each other what they’re feeling every single day and it takes them a while to figure out that that doesn’t require an airing of the natural, minuscule complaints that come with the territory of living together now, but the big feelings: the good ones and the bad ones, but only the ones that matter. 

They end their days the way they live them: in love, and honest about that. 

 

____  
____  
____


End file.
